tiny things
by Irrwisch
Summary: He was a small, petite man when you met him. You wish he wasn't, you wish he'd stand up for himself. But it's really your own fault, isn't it? You didn't notice. You should have. You should have, but you didn't, and now it's all your fault.
1. Chapter 1

When you met him years and years ago; you thought he was a small, petite man, the way he sat there by himself in the corner booth. Certainly, he didn't look like anyone you'd become friends with or would even pay any mind. But, his booth was the only one not crowded, so you and your friends walk over to him and share the booth with him.

Your opinion doesn't really change through the night; even his demeanour seems small and petite. Towards the end of it, he ask if he could join your outings again and you're drunk enough not to care, so you agree. After all, he hardly disturbs you, right? He stands up then, ready to leave and you look at him – you realise he's not small and petite, but that his shoulders are broad and that he is a tall man. You wonder why he looked so tiny while sitting by himself. You don't wonder long, of course, but still – it's a thought that crossed your mind.

It's a thought that comes back now, when he stands in front of you. His words ring in your ears still, and yet you barely registered them. Something's wrong, you know it, but you don't understand why he wouldn't tell you.

"_I love you."_

Why say that? It's neither the place nor the time, and Castiel's not someone who'd try to get with someone's boyfriend. The way he said it, it feels more like an excuse. But why would he need an excuse for something? Does he need one so that you leave him alone? Something's wrong. Something's really wrong, but you don't know what it is, and you _need_ to fix it. So you grab him tight and pull him in your arms. He deflates immediately, and you know he's given up.

You take him home.

He tells you what happened in small, hushed tones. You wish he'd come to you sooner, but at least he's here now. It's gonna be hard, supporting two people with your salary, but you're willing to try. He needs your help, and he's clearly in no state to help himself at the moment. You get him in the tiny guest-room and get him into bed. You'll make soup for him tomorrow, and then you're gonna gradually make him feel better. It's a quiet promise you make to yourself, because you're not sure Castiel could handle that at the moment, so you tell him to sleep. He looks so tiny, again and you wonder.

It's a bit rough, at first. Castiel doesn't want to eat any more than the bare minimum, even though he really ought to, he hasn't really enjoyed the shower yet and never turns on any sort of light, resulting in various bruises all across his body; and frankly, you're at a loss.

"He doesn't want to eat anything, Sammy", you groan in the phone. "My food tastes good, right?" Sam's quiet on the other end of the line and you just start to get irritated. "Uh... did you adopt a fussy baby or something?" You roll your eyes. "No. I'm talking 'bout Castiel, who else?" And there is that damn pause yet again. Sam doesn't need such long pauses to think, for god's sake! "Uh, why, uh, why would you feed Castiel?" Oh.

So you explain and slap yourself mentally. It's not like that's public knowledge. Shit.

Sam tells you Castiel probably needs to get used to this. He needs to get used to kindness and also learning to accept it. So you should have patience and "you're doing a good thing, Dean" blah-blah. After that conversation, however, Castiel starts to eat. It really seems like a call to Sam fixes things. You should've done that a lot sooner. You're just about able to withhold a huff. After all, Castiel acts like a little fawn and you wouldn't want to scare him away with your manliness.

It gets better over time. Castiel still looks tiny to you, but you're not so sure how to change that. You think maybe a new job would help with that, so you gently nudge him towards that. Also, to be honest, having some more money wouldn't be that bad. Everything's getting a bit tight as of late. So, one evening, you decide to call Sam. He'll know what to do – and so far he's the only one who partly knows what happened.

"It's been four months now", Sam says. "He still hasn't found anything?" You just hum. That sounds like an accusation. This whole dilemma isn't really Castiel's fault, is it? "It's not like that", you say and Sam huffs. "Really, Dean? You still wanna shield him from the world?" "Now, c'mon, Sammy, that's hardly fair –". "So what? Money's not getting tight?" You bite your lip. "Well, yes, it's kinda tight, but – ". Sam cuts you off. "Dean, he needs to contribute something, don't you think? You're basically a hotel by now, a free one too!" Maybe calling Sam hadn't been the best idea. "It's _not_ his fault, Sam. Sorry to bother you." You hang up and grab your hair. Son of a bitch. The worst part is, you're not sure if Sam isn't secretly right. Damn it, you wanted him to solve your problem, not add onto it! What are you supposed to do now? You squeeze your eyes shut. Castiel can't know of this. You know he isn't feeling well, and knowing _this_ would only make it worse.

He tells you about every interview he has, and since he never mentions them again, you know how they turned out. You offer him to help look over his applications, but he always declines. You wonder if there is something embarrassing on it, but then – you can't imagine. Castiel is nice and ordinary – he's not the type of guy who'd ever done something embarrassing. Not that it would be a pleasant thing: but almost freezing to death on their trip is probably the most exciting thing that ever happened to him.

You bite your lip. You almost let the guy die, and here you are, calling it _exciting_.

"I'm gonna crash at Lisa's place", you tell him. You're about to meet with your friends. You tried to coax him to go, but he doesn't want to. He's been absent the last few times, and Charlie and Garth have been asking. So you just told them Castiel's probably busy. You feel like Castiel needs to tell them himself. It's not your place. "Okay", he says in a small tone and you hate it. You want him to speak up for himself; you want him to stand up!

But you don't know how to breach that. So you swallow the words you want to say and turn around to leave. Maybe you should confide in Lisa. Maybe she'll know what to do, but – you don't know if she even likes Castiel. It's not like she dislikes him, but... you sigh. Some small part of you damns Castiel. If he'd just kept his job, you wouldn't be in this awkward situation right now. You shake your head in disgust.

It's _not_ his fault.

And you can't make it his fault.

You try to drink your worries away. Lisa cuts you off two hours in. One hour later, she takes you home. You feel like utter shit, and Sam's glances surely didn't fucking _help_. She's worried, she says. You scoff. She doesn't need to worry about you. You have a job, and a girlfriend, and a home and friends and... and...

Castiel has nothing of that.

You stop dead in your tracks.

_They're your friends, Dean._

So... Castiel doesn't have a job, he doesn't have a friend, he doesn't have a home and he doesn't have a boyfriend.

_I love you._

You turn to Lisa and she stares up at you, clearly worried. You hug her and her warmth seeps through you. "Hey, Lis." She moves her head against your chest. "One should help a friend in need, no matter how long it takes, right?" She takes a step back. "Yes", she says, all sincere. "Is everything okay?" You smile. She would help you, you know that. You shake her head. "I'm tired. Let's go to sleep." She nods and holds your hand. It's a nice feeling and briefly, you think about a lonely Castiel, sitting on the couch, all alone. You push the thought away.

It's about two weeks later, and you been pondering over your bank account for hours now. Charlie's birthday is coming up, but you can't really afford to buy her anything. All you can think of gifting her has the label Harry Potter or Star Wars on it, and that's just too expensive. You almost hurled your phone away when you looked up the price of a nice Dice-set. So you call Sam. So stupid.

"I'm kinda running tight, Sammy", you say through your teeth. "I _know_ it's her birthday, but I just can't, okay? Can't you buy something, and I pitch in, or whatever?" Sam huffs. "I know how you could've saved up some money for her gift." You grind your jaw. "So, what do you want me to do? I'm just supposed to tell him to go away?! C'mon, that's just heartless, don't cha think?" "No, Dean, at this point I think it's to be expected. He's abusing your hospitality, Dean! Is he even looking for employment?" You breathe heavily through your nose. "Yes, yes he is! It's not his fault he only gets rejection letters!" Sam cackles. "Why are you still protecting him? Is there something going on Lisa should be aware of?" That's going too far. Without another word you hang up and turn your phone off. The pure assumption…!

You haven't turned your phone back on yet. You know it's probably swarming with messages from Sam by now, but you don't want to deal with that. More than that, you don't want Castiel to notice. So when he enters the kitchen the following day, you smile at him, like always. He doesn't really smile back like he usually does. Damn, perhaps your worry his showing. You're hoping he won't be worrying over this and just believes you spent a long night sexting Lisa. "I'm going to go to Sam's this evening" you tell him, "is that okay?" He just hums slightly and bites into his toast. You look at him; again looking so small and petite. You want to yell at him, tell him to sit straight, stand with all his height. But you don't know how to do that. You can't think of a single reason of why he should sit straight other than the fact that he _should_.

_You're great, Cass, _you think, _I only wish I knew how to tell you that._

You just show up at Sam's. You don't even know if he's home. You ring the bell, and he opens. For a moment, you both just stand there, none of you saying a word. Then you push past him and go inside. It's not exactly warm out here in the wind. He doesn't protest and just closes the door again. You shrug your jacket off and just stand there, neither of you wanting to start.

But Sam, being Sam, comes through: "I'm sorry, Dean. What I said, that… that was uncalled for." You nod slightly, willing him to continue. "Dean, it's just... I'm worried, okay? I know Castiel's a good guy and all that, but he's been living off of you for more than four months now, right? And yes, I know it can be hard to get a job. But you realise it can't go on like this, right?" You sigh deeply and let your shoulders sag. Yes, you know. Sam was only worried. And you can't deny that you haven't wondered yourself. You know Castiel is trying. But Sam's right, too: it can't go on like this forever. Castiel needs a job, so he can help pay the bills. You don't really mind him living with you, but money is really running tight at the moment. "Yeah", you say finally, falling onto the couch. "I don't know what to do, Sammy. He tries, he tries so fucking hard, how can I give him more grief?" Sam hands you a beer and sits next to you. "Let me help", he says. "I can look over his resume. Often it's the phrasing that helps. I mean, we could at least offer it to him." You nod, and you don't tell Sam that you already offered that, and that Castiel declined. Maybe he'll allow Sam to look.

You end up staying the night. Sam's couch is incredible uncomfortable, but it's better than a random ditch on the road. You go straight to work from here and you hope Castiel is doing fine.

"Dean, I... I have a job", he tells you the next day and his voice sounds weird, but you barely notice. You simply beam at him. "Cass, that's amazing! I'm so happy for you; I know how hard it's been." You get up and hug him tightly; he even hugs you back. It feels faint, but you don't really notice that at this point. "So, where you're working at?" You ask him as you release him from your hug. "It's at the museum", he answers you swiftly and continues, "I'm the night-guard." You beam again and clap a hearty hand on his shoulder. "That's great, Cass! Um... not to be forward, but do you think you could... help me pay the bills?" You feel a bit uncomfortable asking this right away, but it's been gnawing at you.

He smiles and says yes.

It's like he knew you were struggling. You hope that's not true.

You smile brightly at him, and if you hadn't been so in your own head at this time, you might've noticed.

You write a message to Sam right after this. You feel so proud.

What a fool you are.

You can't help it; but when you watch Castiel get ready, pride swells in your chest. You're trying so hard not to look, but it just looks _so good_, seeing him get ready for his all-new job. "Have fun!" You shout a bit too loudly and he looks at you, startled. The smile on your face hurts your cheeks, but you can't stop. He smiles gingerly at you, before he disappears through the door.

You sink back into the couch and take a deep breath. It feels so good, knowing the dry period is finally over. With the money from Castiel's job, everything's back to normal now. Even Sam was happy about the news. You giggle a bit. It seems Castiel is better now. Last night, you heard him watch certain... films, so to say. That's good. That means Castiel is back on the right track. And maybe he'll stop being so tiny now, and will stand up straight.

Time passes. And with that passing time, something feels off. You can tell that Castiel is straining himself to look at you. You frown and wonder why. And even more so, it feels like he's retreating somewhere. He never talks about his work, not even when you try and prompt him. You wonder if he's got trouble at work. But you don't know if it's any of your business. And somehow, you want to trust him enough that he'd come to you if he needed to.

And then he stops looking at you completely. You don't what's wrong, but you don't want to ask Sam about it. _"Talk to him"_, he'd say. Yeah, Sherlock thanks very much for that useless piece of crap advice. He takes a lot of walks outside now and you think that's good. Sunshine and fresh air always help, right? They have to, because you don't know what to do.

There's a bruise on his face. He says it happened at work, he fell asleep and accidentally hit his head on the counter. You simply nod, not believing him. You think that reaffirms your thoughts about him having trouble at work. "Okay", you tell him. "Just be more careful next time, alright?" You wish he'd talk to you. You're sure you could scare his bully away, if you only knew who that was. So you decide to take some behind-the-scene action. You could protect him, even without him asking. He would be happy about it later. He wasn't alone anymore, now.

So, when he's asleep, you call the museum. You just need a name, anything to go on. A man picks up and you mentally steel yourself. "Ah, hello. I'm calling because I had a question about one of your night guards. Castiel Novak? He started about three weeks ago, now." The man asks you to hold a moment and seemingly types away at his computer. "Sir, there is no Castiel Novak employed with us currently." You're baffled. Why would Castiel lie to you? And where does he go when he goes to work? And more importantly, _where does the money come from?_ "Oh. I'm sorry; I must have been mistaken, sorry." The man tells you it's no bother and you hang up.

Castiel lied to you.

But why?

He must have a job; where else would the money come from?

You know the answer, you're sure you do, but you don't want to.

Two days later, he has a fever. He didn't seem sick before, so you're even more worried. You want to take care of him, so you make him Mom's Tomato-Rice-Soup. You help him eat it and whenever he warms up too much, you get some wet towels for him. Lisa wants to meet, as do your friends, but Castiel is a bit more important right now. You don't want to leave him alone here. His temperature doesn't lower and worry gnaws way at you.

The fever gets worse, and you take him to the hospital. Castiel tries to protest, in a meek, tiny voice. You hate it. You hate it so much. You tell him a firm no and you feel him cry into your shoulder. You're not sure he notices that. His body is so hot to the touch.

Three days he spends at the hospital. There are cuts on his chest, and they're inflamed. Why didn't he say something? Who did that to him? Why didn't he take better care of himself? You could've helped. The doctors talk to you; and they confirm what you've known all along. Damn it all, you didn't need money _that_ badly. It should never have come to this.

He's asleep every time you sit at his bed. You know he's faking it. "I know you're awake, Castiel." To his credit, he doesn't even flinch. You don't know what to do. What do you do in this situation? You want to ask Sam, but you can't. This thing is so private and Castiel feels so tiny, so fragile – you're afraid you're going to break him.

You don't speak to him on the way home. He sits next to you, pale to the light outside. He looks even tinier than usual, and oh god, how much you hate it. It should have never come to this, but now it's too late. The deed is done, and you're afraid your friend is forever damaged, without you being able to fix him in any way or matter.

"Castiel", you say after the door closes. "Tell me."

Such a small order, and even to your ears, it sounds impossible to obey. Slowly, he lifts his gaze and looks at you. He's even smaller than the first time you've seen him. How will you ever get him to stand up? It's seems such an impossible task. "I wanted to be good", he says toneless.

It's a hollow voice that comes out of him and you take his phone from him. You browse through his last messages and you want to find all these people and hurt them for hurting him. How dare they? _How dare they?_ "You should've told me" you say and you try your hardest to keep the anger out of your voice. It's not for him, it's for them, But if he hears it, he'll think it's his fault. "I wanted to be good", he says again.

"You've always been good", you say and you hug him. You don't know what to do.

"I love you", he says and you hug him tighter.

He hugs you back, but it doesn't feel like a beginning.

It's not enough.

And you're not sure if it ever could be.

Later, when you're lying in your bed, you hear a soft thump. You're sure, later; you only hear it because you haven't been asleep yet. You should have been, it's after three in the morning and you have to get to work tomorrow – but you were thinking about skipping, because you two really need to talk. You wonder if Castiel knocked something over or – god forbid – if he hurt himself. So you get up and pad over to his room – it is his room now, after all this time, no longer the guest-room – and you open the door without much preamble.

It's your fault, isn't it?

You didn't even know you kept a rope somewhere. You didn't see him take a chair. But you should have.

So it's your fault, isn't it?


	2. Read Me!

Heyo! You might not know, but this is part of a series. First part is "best friends", then comes "of stars and pebbles", and then this. Now there's a Part Four, called "yellow"! If you liked it, do check it out, they can utterly stand alone (for the most part), but they're more enjoyable if read together. Thank you!


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